White Blank Page
by UniversalOverlordess
Summary: He meets Kurt Hummel on a rainy Tuesday, waiting for the eleven fifteen bus to get the station. A sort of soulmate!Klaine fic.


_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own Glee.

* * *

><p>He meets Kurt Hummel on a rainy Tuesday, waiting for the eleven fifteen bus to get the station.<p>

Kurt is running, one hand holding part of his coat over his head, and the other holding a bouquet of flowers close to his chest; he stops right next to him, panting slightly, then looks up and gasps out, "Have I missed the bus?"

"The one at eleven? Or eleven fifteen?" he asks, and Kurt tells him eleven. "Nah, it's running late," he says, and Kurt sighs with relief. "Uh... My name is Blaine," he says, holding out a hand, not really knowing why he felt compelled to introduce himself, but he did, and so he waits to see if the other man offers the same courtesy.

"Kurt," he says, taking Blaine's hand and shaking it. "It's nice to meet you, Blaine."

They talk to each other, small talk, Blaine notices, because the bus is late and they're the only two on the platform. Blaine learns the small things about Kurt; he's halfway through _The Republic_, he has a complete love-hate relationship with Faulkner, and he always seems to miss the eleven o'clock bus, no matter how early he leaves his apartment. In return, Blaine offers a little bit of himself back; he reads poetry at night when he finds that he's having trouble sleeping, he owns a goldfish and he's rereading George Orwell because he's bored.

"Lover of books, huh?" Kurt says with a smile. "I run a small bookshop over on Main. The owner died, and I just sort of... took it over."

Blaine tells him that he loves bookstores, and before he knows it, he has the address and the name of the bookstore in his hand. "You're interesting," Kurt tells him when he asks about why Kurt gave it to him. "I like interesting people; let me tell you, there's a surprising lack of interesting people here. Are you on the eleven or the fifteen?"

"Oh, the fifteen."

Kurt bites his lower lip, the one that looks rather delicious, Blaine can't lie, and then glances down at the bouquet of flowers in his grasp. He glances back up at Blaine, then smiles and shrugs. "I can be a little late. It's been a while since I've had a decent conversation with someone."

..

He lives in a world full of love, happiness, joy – a world where people know who their other half is, who they're going to spend the rest of their life with.

All because of a piece of paper.

One single piece of paper that determines _everything_.

You get clues, you see, clues that appear on the page to tell you who you're supposed to be with, who you're supposed to love. But they never go farther than that – after those clues, it's all left to you to find your significant other. And if you guess wrong, you're stuck. No second chances, no trying to find again.

"It's just the way the world works, honey," his mother had told him; his mother who had picked wrong. "It's not like your life is over," she'd said.

_Your life is over._

"It's just that you don't get complete happiness."

_No happiness._

"So be smart with your choice, okay, Blaine?"

_Make the right choice._

"What were those clues again?"

After you make your decision, you say those words: "you're _mine_,", or after you give that other person yourself completely, the white blank page writes down a name, the name of the person who is right for you. And all you can do is hope and wish and plead for the name to be correct.

Sometimes it isn't.

But sometimes... sometimes it is.

..

Kurt Hummel is not his, Blaine decides one day while he's sitting in a little cafe across the street from Kurt's bookstore, drinking coffee and eating a sandwich. Kurt Hummel _can't_ be his. He fits the clues, yes, but so do so many other people, he's sure.

_Tall._

_Male._

_Brown hair._

_Adventurous._

_Intelligent._

_Headstrong._

_Beautiful._

That's all he has going for him, all that he has to tell him who he's going to – _supposed to_ be with. He has no idea how long he's sat on his bed, or somewhere, and thought over those little clues. They don't really tell him much, because anyone can have those attributes, anyone can be _the one_.

But Blaine Anderson is twenty-seven, never been in a serious relationship, never settled down at all, and he's pretty damn sure he's never going to find his perfect other; he's never going to find _the one_.

As he sits on his chair, occasionally glancing across the street to see Kurt servicing customers, he thinks back to the person he'd thought had been _the one_ once.

His name had been Sebastian, Sebastian Smythe, and he'd had every single one of those attributes except one: he hadn't been beautiful. Oh, he'd been attractive, alright, but not beautiful, never beautiful. He'd had an ugliness about him, something that made him angry and vengeful inside, and it showed more often than the side of him that was happy, the side of him that could _make_ him beautiful. And so Blaine had known that he wasn't his. Sebastian wasn't his, and would never be his.

There had been a few other people like that was well, who'd been so close to being Blaine's _one_ until they weren't anymore. They'd get close, so close that Blaine had thought that maybe, just maybe, and then he'd realize that they lacked one more attribute, that one of his clues didn't fit them anymore.

_But Kurt_, his mind tells him as he watches Kurt move around the store, taking in his gorgeous body and his happy smile. _Kurt could be him_.

"No," he says out loud, as if it'll make his subconscious drop those thoughts. "No, he's not mine."

He knows he should stop, should leave and not bother Kurt again and completely banish Kurt from his thoughts, but his body is traitorous, and before he knows it he's moving towards Kurt's bookstore; he's opening the door and then Kurt is greeting him with a wave and a smile.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi again," Kurt replies, moving over to flip the OPEN sign over to CLOSED. "You always come just as I'm closing up; you have great timing."

"I'm either always a bit early, or just right on time."

Kurt raises an elegant eyebrow, looking rather surprised before he schools his features into a more relaxed face and gestures towards the back of the bookstore, where he lives. "Are you hungry? I have a stew cooking, and it should be done in a little bit."

Even though he's already eaten something small, he finds himself nodding and following Kurt into the back, allowing Kurt to hang his coat up on the coat wrack before he's hurried into the kitchen. "I love living right where I work," Kurt is saying as he checks on the stew. "It makes life easier in ways I didn't understand before."

"You moved in here after the previous owner died, right?"

Kurt nods, taking two bowls out of the cupboard. "That's right."

A silence falls on them as Blaine watches Kurt scoop up the stew and place it in a bowl. Kurt seems to be deep in thought, because he's biting his lower lip as he turns around and places the bowls on the table, getting two spoons before he sits down next to Blaine and says, "Dig in!"

The stew is good, amazing, actually, and Blaine engages Kurt in small talk, asking about the bookstore and the new book order he'd gotten the other day. Kurt stops eating, though, staring at Blaine with a frown.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

"Go on a date with me," Kurt says in answer, and Blaine drops his spoon.

"Uh... what?"

"I know that you heard me. I'd like to go on a date with you."

_He's not yours_, his brain is yelling at him. _You can't, because he's not yours, remember?_

_Say no, say no and it'll be okay. Just say no_.

"Okay," he says.

..

Blaine's met more people who have chosen wrong then he has people who've chosen right. He can see that those who have chosen wrong are happy, but they're not as happy as those who have picked right, who have found their perfect other. Those who have picked wrong told him that they'd been happy until they looked at their paper, only to find that the one they picked – that there name wasn't written.

He tells Kurt he's scared, right after their fifth date, and Kurt nods and holds his hand as Blaine drops him off at the bookstore. "I am too," Kurt says honestly. "Any relationship is scary when it first begins."

Blaine blinks at him. "Aren't you worried that I'm not the one, though? That if this continues, that my name isn't the one written?"

Kurt surprises him then, by his eyes going wide and a loud laughing leaving his mouth. "No, I'm not, Blaine," he says. "And I'll never know."

"What?"

Kurt shrugs. "I tore my piece of paper up three years ago."

And it hits Blaine like a bolt of lighting. "You _what_?"

Kurt nods, tightening his grip on Blaine's hand. "I tore it up."

"_Why?_"

Because if his paper is gone, Kurt will never know who he's supposed to be looking for, what he's supposed to be using as hints; he'll never know who his soul mate is.

"Because, Blaine. I'm the one who decides my future and my happiness. Not a little piece of paper."

Kurt kisses him that night, just a quick little kiss that leaves Blaine's lips tingling and his insides warm. "I had an amazing night tonight, Blaine," Kurt mutters against his mouth, holding his lips there longer for the extra touch. Blaine keeps his eyes closed, marveling at the feeling of being that close to another human being. "I hope that you'll come back to the store tomorrow. I'm making another stew, and I'd like to have someone to share it with."

Blaine nods, and then Kurt is gone, moving back into the bookstore with a wave. Blaine waves back, staring, and then he brings his fingers up to his tingling lips and he smiles.

..

Blaine does go back to the bookstore the next night, and when the door is opened after he knocks, the look on Kurt's face is one of complete surprise. "I didn't think you'd be coming," Kurt confesses as he lets Blaine in.

"Why'd you think that?"

"Because most people don't come back once I've told them that I tore up my paper."

Blaine shrugs his shoulders and leans in to kiss Kurt's lips, humming against the feel of their mouths pressed together. As they pull away, Blaine holds up the bag of groceries he'd been holding. "I brought ingredients for the stew, if you're willing to use them?"

Kurt takes the bag with a warm sigh, then grabs Blaine's hand with his other hand and pulls him into the kitchen. Together they find out that Blaine makes an absolutely _horrible_ stew, but after the dish has failed, Kurt learns that Blaine can make a rather mean spaghetti dish.

"You're a man of many talents," Kurt confesses as they clean up the kitchen together.

"Apparently I am," he replies happily. "I also brought a wine, if you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, _I noticed_."

Blaine ends up spending four nights a week at Kurt's home, for over seven months, and on Thursday, December 13th, he realizes that he's in love with Kurt Hummel. It terrifies him, because as he's watching Kurt hang ornaments on their Christmas tree (_their_ Christmas tree, _theirs), _he thinks back to the clues that he'd been given on his piece of paper, and how he doesn't think that Kurt fits all of them. Yes, he fits the physical description, but Kurt's not very adventurous and... and...

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong?"

Blaine brings a hand up to his head. "I don't know..." he mutters, moving to stand up. "You don't fit all of them."

And then Kurt's next to him, gripping Blaine's arms tightly. "I don't fit _what_?"

"All of my clues, and... _god_, I think that I - "

Kurt kisses him, just a small one, and it clears Blaine's head for a moment. "Calm down for a second, okay? All of your clues?"

"The ones that my paper says, the clues about who my soul mate is. And I _want_ you to fit those clues, but there's one that... You just don't _fit_?"

And he really does want Kurt to fit all of them, because Kurt is just... Kurt is just _amazing_, but if he doesn't fit, and this continues, then there's a chance that they both won't be completely happy and -

And then Kurt's kissing him again, harshly this time. Blaine soaks the kiss in, trying to feel Kurt underneath his panic.

"I don't care," Kurt is muttering against his lips as he presses kiss after kiss on Blaine's mouth. "I don't give one single damn about what a fucking _piece of paper_ says, if I don't fit all of those stupid clues. I tore mine up, remember?"

Blaine pulls away, shocked. "Wh-what? I know that you tore yours up, but that piece of paper - "

"It gives me a name, Blaine. That's it. It'll give me one name – how does a name change how I'm feeling right now, what I'm going to be feeling years into the future? You wanna know what that piece of paper is? It's fear. So many people live by that piece of paper, let those clues given to us control who they look at for a partner, who they think they want to spend the rest of their life with, because they've decided that a _piece of paper _is what knows them and their deepest wants, not their own hearts. I'm going to ask you right now, Blaine. Who do you want to live with? What kind of person do you want as your partner?"

Blaine pauses for a moment, then opens his mouth. "I want someone who is headstrong, who is adventurous and - "

But Kurt is shaking his head. "No. I don't want to hear what the paper told you. I want to hear what _Blaine Anderson_ wants as their partner. I want to know what _you want_."

Blaine takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, looking back on his life and remembering. "I want someone who will take care of me when I'm sick. I want someone who won't mind that I'm overly affectionate at times; I want..."

And suddenly he's rambling, listing off things that were never on his piece of paper, qualities of a human that he'd never once seen appear on that single piece of paper. He wants someone who will go to the planetarium with him on the weekends, someone who will paint with him on Sunday's, someone who will listen to him as he reads what news has happened that day; someone who will allow him to complain about the workers in his office, who will -

"I want someone who will take walks with me in the park, someone who understands my love of literature, someone who will kiss me and tell me that they love me. I want... I want someone to _love_ me."

Kurt is smiling at him, a big, bright smile, and it is honestly the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen. "Yes," he whispers before he leans in and presses a kiss to Blaine's mouth. "Don't you see? These are things that _you want_, not things that you were told to look for."

"What about you," Blaine mumbles against Kurt's mouth, feeling oh so much calmer, his hands moving up and down Kurt's back in desperation. "What is it that Kurt Hummel wants?"

"I want so many stupid things, Blaine. I want a home, a cute little house; I want someone who makes horrible stew but amazing spaghetti," he says, and Blaine can't help but chuckle. "I want someone to love me, to say that they're happy to be mine. I want someone who can play chess and who knows who Edgar Allen Poe and Marc Jacobs are. But most of all, and the most important thing is, I want _you_."

Blaine nods, pulling Kurt closer to him, his mouth desperate to touch every little bit of skin that Kurt has. "Yeah, yeah, me too. I want you too." And he does. He wants Kurt Hummel _oh_ so much.

They give everything to each other that night; whispers of love aren't forgotten, and when they say _those words, _"You're _mine_," it's with love full in their hearts, and nothing else has ever felt so _right_ to Blaine before, and he knows, without a doubt, that even if Kurt Hummel's name doesn't appear on that white paper, that Blaine has made the right choice.

Because in his mind, Kurt Hummel really _is_ his, and all because of three small words.

_I love you._

..

Years down the road, he finds his white, blank piece of paper as he's unpacking his books, his husband placing another box next to him and leaving the room to make sure the movers haven't damaged any of their new furniture.

"We paid a lot of money for these guys, so they better not ruin anything," Kurt whispers into Blaine's hair as he presses a kiss there before he leaves.

"I'm sure nothing has been damaged," he calls out, placing _Animal Farm_ onto the bookshelf. It's the last book in the box, and as he looks down he notices an old, worn piece of paper, the same size of book page. It's folded in half, and as he reaches for it, he automatically knows what it is.

Blaine holds it in his hands, debating with himself. He stares at it, running his thumbs over the paper, wondering what would happen if he opened it to check, to just _see_ if he was right. He turns it sideways, his thumb on the edge of the fold, ready to turn it over -

And he rips it clean in two, putting it back together to rip it again. He rips it one more time, just for good measure, then walks over to the fireplace and tossing the pieces into the fire that he'd stared a few hours previous.

"What are you doing?" comes Kurt's voice from the doorway, and Blaine looks up at his husband, the love of his life, and knows he's made the right choice all over again.

"Just adding some paper to the fire; it was going out," he says, holding out for Kurt to take. Once Kurt does, he pulls him in close, just holding him against his chest. "Are you hungry?" he asks after a while. "I can whip up something to eat; I've been told that I make a mean spaghetti dish."

Kurt grins and kisses him. "Sounds like a plan."

They leave the room together, hand in hand, and Blaine has never been happier, his torn up, burning page with the name of his supposed _soul mate_ long forgotten, because Kurt had been right. Blaine had all that he ever wanted right there with him.

..

_Tall._

_._

_._

_Male._

_._

_._

_Brown hair._

_._

_._

_Adventurous._

_._

_._

_Intelligent._

_._

_._

_Headstrong._

_._

_._

_Beautiful._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_K u r t _

_E._

_H u m m e l_

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><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong> I wrote this at three in the morning last night, while White Blank Page was on repeat because I couldn't sleep. APPARENTLY MY BRAIN JUST WANTS ANGST WHEN I'M THAT TIRED.

Well, I think it came out okay! And angsty.

Tell me: **_was it angsty enough for_ you?**

Anyway, tell me what you thought, please!

UO


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